


he kept tulips in the kitchen.

by gremlinhours



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Introspection, M/M, flowershop au, thats right im back on my bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlinhours/pseuds/gremlinhours
Summary: dan doesn't know if he'll ever be enough for anyone, but in the meantime, he tends to his garden, unminding of the world.phil works at his favourite flowershop.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	he kept tulips in the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly im not really in this fandom anymore, especially since dan's hiatus, but i still love the bois and this has been sitting in my drafts for like 40 years,, so just take this fluff ig

He keeps tulips in the kitchen. Whenever his mother comes home, she asks how his girlfriend was doing. She thinks the orange buds belonged to someone else, a figment to fill in the gaps of her conservatism. She always eyes them fondly, commenting on how lovely they look. But Dan knows they’re his, the manifestation of his quiet rebellion; open and unseen still.

He lets her believe.

_Flowers aren't for boys, Daniel._

His lips lift just barely, grazing the line between a grin and a grimace. Tulips are the manliest flower, in his opinion. They’re trapped in their buds, and when they bloom, they’re boxed by the wind. Never would they spread their petals like the rose or hibiscus. They are beautifully underrated. Dan sniffs the in-bloom buds as he sprinkles fertilizer into the brick red pots. When would she notice that there was no girlfriend? These blooms are the best it gets, the most effeminate in the ways that suited his mother’s delicate palate. It wouldn’t do to have her witness his milky thighs in short emerald green skirts and shiny black kitten heels. He pushes the window open just a smidgen, watching the wind tickle the buds. He wants to fly away like the trickles of pollen that escape the delicate cage of petals.

Dan rubs the edge of a white flower between his index finger. The lying ignites a thrill in his belly, but like always, it’s short lived. _Short-term gratification, man’s best friend. At least it’s white lies and not white powder._ He feels his skin prickle with a familiar kind of dirtiness. A curl of breeze slips through the curtains, tugging him out of his thoughts and leaves him wanting more of the cool fall wind.

He slips on a light cardigan over his grey shirt, a soft hat over his unwashed curls and a slide of chapstick over his cracked lips. Dan pushes the door open and steps onto the street. The air is cool with the telltale signs of autumn, swirling with a light tinge of petrichor, a rainbow leaf here and there. _Should’ve brought a heavier jumper._ He keeps walking, feeling his cheeks flush and the tip of his nose frost. With each place of his feet, he’s more and more sure of his destination. His teeth chatter lightly under his clamped lips.

The warm glow of the best store in England sends a relieved shiver through him (he’s a bit biased, but don’t mind him). He pushes the door of Bloomingdale’s open with an ungloved hand. Sweet tendrils of a couple dozen flowers’ tang greet him. Warmth flows through him in the form of unhindered welcome and he feels the blissful waves of Bloomingdale’s atmosphere cloak him.

“Ah! Daniel, my dearest child, how lovely it is to see you again.” The shop’s owner Kath says, as she gathers all of his 6’3 height up as if he was a child. He laughs softly and squeezes back, her red hair speckled with motes of fertilizer. She releases him from her clutch, and after interrogating him on his health for a few moments, readjusts her bag and pats his cheek. “Wait Kath, are you heading out now? I thought closing was in,” He checks his watch, “Half an hour?” Kath never leaves the shop early, in fact as far as Dan knew, only one other person worked at Bloomingdale’s; Kath’s punk niece. “Oh no, the shop’s still open, don’t worry dear. I’ve hired a new worker,” she says with a light glint in her eye, “So I finally have time to feed the ducks in the evenings again,” she sighs contentedly. Dan waves goodbye to her with a fond smile, and wishes her luck with the geese before turning back to the cluttered flower shop.

Weaving through the customers and towering displays of plants and bags of dirt, he keeps his eyes set on a pot he’d been stalking for days. There, sitting on the lowest shelf, is a pot the size of his palm. In it, there are 4 buds and 2 flowers -- all dandelions. He smiles giddily at the blue pot in his hands.

The one who’d been meant to be there through everything and anything might have gone and fucked off...or good as well have, what with her loving her most glorified acrylic painting of Dan, and only that version of Dan...but hey, at least he always has his green thumb and his trustiest friends (his plants, though Dan’s working on the human ones).

He slides the pot over the cashier counter and reaches for his wallet.

“Dandelions, huh?” comes the voice of the cashier.  
Dan nods absentmindedly, fumbling with his coin purse.  
“I thought I’d have to throw these little guys out. Not many eager for them these days, you see. Best not to plant these guys in the ground, they’ll eat up your whole garden.” Cashier-guy hums.  
Dan topples his little mountain of change into the man’s outstretched hand.  
“I like these guys. They aren’t what people are looking for, because they’re everywhere, background noise that should be appreciated,” Dan shuffles through his notes before slipping one into the man’s hand and looking up, “At least that’s what I think.”

Oh shit. The guy is exactly Dan’s type. Pink cheeks, beak-y nose, tall, broad shoulders, unmistakably gorgeous smile. Why doesn’t he look at people when he speaks? (It’s because he has trust issues, but we don’t talk about that).

The guy laughs.

“If you wrote a poem on that, I’d definitely read it, mate.”  
Dan smiles shakily and grabs the pot. He turns quickly and bids the man farewell through a thick tongue. Once he’s alone outside the store he groans into his flowers. God, why is he like this. He lets himself wallow in self pity, feeling insecurities seep into his soup of negativity.

A tap on his shoulder so rudely interrupts him.

”Hello again.” It’s the man from the store again, his tongue caught between his teeth in that annoyingly sweet smile. “O-oh hi.” Dan offers him another shaky smile and looks away from the way the adorable (obviously hand sewn) baby blue apron sits on his shoulders. The man stares at him for a long second. Dan looks away with a tinge on his face that he’ll say is from the cold for self preservational purposes. “I’m Phil.” The guy grins a little more lopsidedly. “I’m Dan,” He says cautiously, before blinking at the man disbelievingly. “Oh my god. You’re Kath’s Phil.” he blurts before he can help himself. Dan can barely believe it; the woman who’d been acting as her pseudo mother for months’ son was this guy. Distantly, Dan remembers Kath’s sneaky smile from earlier. He sighs, pinching his nose. “Yep, that’s me!” Phil slings an arm around his shoulders, and Dan jumps like a spooked mongoose caught in headlights, "Though she probably won't be too happy with me closing up early," he frowns, the expression oddly cute. "I'm sure she won't mind if I tell her I ditched for a cute boy, though." Phil teases, and _wow_ he and Phil's parents could not be more different. “I cannot believe she never told me her son was hot,” Dan mutters lowly enough that Phil doesn't stop his offtune humming.

“Why are you holding me like this?” Dan collects himself, trying to untangle himself halfheartedly, finding his resolve weakening at the way Phil’s slightly shorter frame wraps around him. Not to mention, Phil’s rather warm, and Dan’s rather cold.

“Because, Dan, I’m taking you out for a coffee.” Phil marches them both forward. Dan laughs a little and walks with him before he can remember himself. “You’re quite brazen, aren’t you?”

“Not usually. My mum has told me so much about you, and I couldn’t help but notice that you look like you really need a cuppa, “ Phil looks pointedly at the smudges of purple-black under Dan’s eyes, “Plus, you’re awfully cute, couldn’t help myself.” He makes the most mangled attempt at a wink Dan has ever seen. Dan can already feel fucking butterflies in his chest. Goddammit.

Dan smiles a little at the ground. Phil takes the pot from his hands and releases him, taking his and walking next to him, chattering about the state of flower politics and demand.

He doesn’t need to be anyone’s idea of masculinity to be beautiful, or enough.

Right now, all he needs to do is get an overly sweet frappacino despite the bitter late autumn breeze with the silly man beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear im going to write a million flower shop au's someone stop me.  
> here's my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/trytothinkofeverything)


End file.
